


Happy Lithuanian Independence Day

by elevenpacesleft



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And not well written, And then BAM Hannibal's tragic backstory, But it's simply a conversation I wanted to have, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Hurt/Comfort, Independence, Lithuania - Freeform, Lithuanian Basketball, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Self-Indulgent, Sex but not written in any detail, Some bad words thats it, Timeline adjusted Hannibal Rising, Trap music, Will and Hannibal get jiggy in their murder room, party hats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenpacesleft/pseuds/elevenpacesleft
Summary: Over the course of a three-year partnership, Will Graham thought he had encountered, cataloged, and rationalized every quirk his “fancy European cannibal husband,” Hannibal Lecter had to offer.Reader; he had not.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Happy Lithuanian Independence Day

Over the course of a three-year partnership, Will Graham thought he had encountered, cataloged, and rationalized every quirk his “fancy European cannibal husband,” Hannibal Lecter had to offer. And there were many. Killing and eating people notwithstanding, Hannibal had borderline OCD that he wrote off as “aesthetical preferences,” would engage in risk-taking behavior such as motorcycle riding but could not be counted upon to join him on hikes due to the high frequency of hiking-related accidents he had seen come into his ER, and he point-blank refused to learn how to shoot a gun. The latter was due to some sensory issues that Will could certainly relate to, though he wished, as they were getting older, Hannibal would at least deign to learn proper form, should the occasion ever arise to use one. 

There were a host of others, of course. He hated purple, held his breath passing Portuguese cemeteries, and never wore the same suit twice in a four-week period. 

Still, it was fun getting to know each other’s little idiosyncrasies. Though certain things remained off-limits.

Hannibal rarely spoke about his past and when he did it was with such detached, cavalier humor that Will was certain it was devastating. 

Of course, he knew his husband was born at Castle Lecter in Lithuania in the late 60s. That he had a sister who was killed and unwittingly consumed by him. But that was it. If one didn’t know better they’d think Hannibal had no beginning and burst into life in his late teens, studying medicine in Paris and arranging flowers with his aunt. He was a complicated man with many softer, lighter aspects than those who knew him as the Chesapeake Ripper, or Monster of Florence could possibly conceive of.

Still, despite this missing time, Will was sure he knew Hannibal completely. They had spent virtually every moment together since he threw them from the cliff face. He was proud of it.

Today was different, though. 

When Will returned from a countryside jaunt with their two dogs, game, and fresh-cut firewood (Hannibal lovingly referred to such behavior as Will’s “woodsman pursuits,”) the house seemed deserted. Which was odd. It was a Sunday, a day Hannibal resolutely refused to work on now he was a man of leisure (aka a lapsed Catholic househusband with a god-complex). Will and the dogs poked around the first floor and found nothing and no one. The beginnings of a pit were forming in his stomach. There was no sign anyone else had entered their home, all the doors and been locked when he arrived. No one hunting them knew where they were. Any local friends would have called first, and Hannibal would have let him know if he was taking a break from being pretentious to go to the pub with one of them. 

Will stalked up the stairs, a knife held firmly in his hands, listening intently. He checked both bedrooms, the bathrooms, and the study. Clearing each room, he felt the hot breath of the past on his neck. His bad shoulder gave a phantom twinge, but he ignored it. There was only one place left for Will to check, and it held two implications: either Hannibal was in the soundproof attic killing someone, or someone was in the soundproof attic killing Hannibal. He cared for neither option. 

Will pulled the chain to the trap door in the ceiling and scaled the purposefully difficult wooden ladder with as much poise as he could muster. Finally, he stood in front of the door. Fear crept through him like icy tapeworms eating away at the sense of safety he found in their home. 

Deep breath, Will.

He opened the door with a soft click. 

UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ WHIIIIIIIIR UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ ZCHUCK UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ

Somewhere between the deep bass of Baltic club music and the shimmering light of a disco ball Will had no idea they owned, was Hannibal. There was no murder of any kind taking place unless one counted the job he was doing on a bottle of clear liquor. 

Will set his knife down on the autopsy table and watched with confusion as Hannibal waved him over. Will obeyed and was immediately handed his own bottle of what was apparently Samane and a small Lithuanian flag. His husband completed the trifecta by unceremoniously slapping a paper party hat on Will’s unsuspecting head. 

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal seemed not to hear him and continued his one-man rave in their attic. Will noted he was considerably dressed down, even for a Sunday. He wore a shirt that, if he had to hazard a guess, was fan garb for a Lithuanian basketball team. 

When he received no response the second and third time he repeated Hannibal’s name (due to the loud music and Hannibal’s eyes being closed while he danced), Will made an executive decision: to roll with it. 

He unscrewed the cap of his bottle, took a sip, gagged, then downed half.

They spent the better part of the afternoon getting blitzed, smoking cigarettes, and grinding to the not-so-dulcet tones of Lithuanian trap.

Grinding to Lithuanian trap eventually leads to making out to Lithuanian trap which leads to drunkenly fucking on the autopsy table to Lithuanian trap. 

It was damn good for keeping a rhythm. 

By the time they were finished, utterly spent and panting, Will had forgotten his confusion at Hannibal’s out-of-character behavior. He smiled up at his lover, lazily. 

Party hat askew and waving his own tiny flag, Hannibal smiled back and said, “Happy Lithuanian Independence Day.” 

***

It was, specifically, the 30th anniversary of Lithuania regaining its independence from the Soviet Union, Will later found out. 

They were tucked away in bed, exhausted and still a little drunk when Hannibal told him. He was unprompted and began his story in a small, tired voice against Will’s chest. 

“By the time I was born, we’d been under Soviet control for nearly 30 years,” he whispered. “But our estate was so remote and self-sustaining that no one bothered us. We were just farmers and hunters, really. Farmers and hunters with meaningless titles. We had art and books my grandfather saved from the Nazis and some staff that was more like family than anything else. My father, cook, and tutor went out every day together to farm sugar beets and rye. We had left-over elegance. Nothing more.” He sighed and Will held him tighter. “When I was nine and Mischa was four, something happened. My parent wouldn’t tell us, but I eventually learned that a Soviet prison was being built not ten miles away from the castle. They were worried it would be annexed by the state, officially this time. Our bubble was about to pop. And it did. We were going to be evicted, forced to move into Riga to work. We left before then and fled to the hunting lodge. Winter came. And so did 7 escaped prisoners.”

Hannibal wasn’t sure if he could go on, but could not stop himself at the same time.

“It was a flimsy building, the prison. I looked at the blueprint once. The men who got out had been shuffled between these institutions since the end of the war. And they found us during a snow storm. My father,” Hannibal laughed, then, sudden and sharp, “offered them food and drink, instead of shooting them on the spot. That was a mistake. These were wild animals. They could not be reasoned with. They killed him. Then cook. Then my tutor, Yakob, whom they tortured first for being a Jew. Then they forced my mother to show them where she hid her jewelry and paintings. She gave them up. And she was shot in the head while protecting our bodies with her own. They burned the corpses, for warmth. I don’t know why they didn’t kill Mischa and me that day. Maybe they did not have the stomach to kill children at that point. Maybe they had other plans for us. Regardless, they waited out the storm, burning the bodies for heat and eating our entire store of food. They kept us chained to the stairway, always in view.” 

He took a deep breath. 

“When the food ran out they became even more feral, unhinged. That’s when they took Mischa away from me. And I didn’t remember anything after that until some soldiers found me wandering around the woods, for ten years.”

“Oh, Hannibal,” Will whispered. He kissed the top of his head. 

“They turned the castle into an orphanage, and that’s where I lived until my aunt and uncle found me. I couldn’t speak a word until I was thirteen.”

The pain in his lover’s voice sliced through Will like a red hot blade. He was already taking on his grief and anger. “I’m so glad your family found you. I know those were good years.”

“As am I. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without them.” 

“I adore you. I would take all of your pain away if I could. I would carry it instead.”

“That’s noble of you, but it is a burden I would not wish on anyone but those who gave it to me.”

“And you killed them all, except Chiyoh’s prisoner?”

“Yes. Tracking him down was the last time I set foot in the country, and the last time I ever will. Mischa’s empty grave is there, as I am sure you know.”

They were silent awhile.

“So why the sudden patriotism today?”

Hannibal considered a moment before responding. “It feels as though the events of my past were set in motion nearly thirty years before they occurred. And now, thirty years have passed since the regime that caused them fell. I enjoy symmetry, and, I figured a positive association with my home country would be good for my mental health. The youth of Lithuania inspired me greatly. I also took your advice.”

“My advice?”

“To “loosen up a little.” It was fun.”

Will smiled. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Happy Lithuanian Independence Day, Hannibal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Every fanfic I've ever written has a prominent dance scene. What am I? A high school screenwriter? Geez. Anyway, I didn't really even edit this but I hope you liked it. This was a warmup to cure my writer's block and it worked.


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